








LIBRARY OF CONGRESS, 

COPYRIGHT OFFICE. 


No registration of title of this book 
as a preliminary to copyright protec- 
tion has been found. 


Forwarded to Order Division 


(Apr. 5, 1901-5,000.) 






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HE SAT DOWN ON THE BANK WITH CURLY COMB 


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DONALD’S GOOD HEN 

The Nearly True Story of a Real Hen 




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By KATE UPSON CLARK 
Author of “THE ADVENTURES 
OF SPOTTY,” “HOW DEXTER 
PAID HIS WAY,” ETC. 


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ILLUSTRATIONS By 
w. A. McCullough 

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SALEM MASSACHUSETTS 
SAMUEL EDSON CASSINO & SON 


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Received ^ :m 
Copyright :dce. 

31 Ji’09 

Copyright, 1905, by S. E. CASSINO & SON 



LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
Tv/o R>;ce'vecl 

JUL I 

Copyriitnt Entry 
CLASS AXc, ^|o, 

COHY o 



THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED TO 
G. M. C. 

WHO DEARLY LOVED HIS “ GOOD HEN,” AND 
WHO TOLD ME THE FIRST TRUE STORIES 
THAT I EVER HEARD ABOUT REAL HENS 





































Contents 


chapter 


1. 

A Little City Boy .... 

• . 9 

11. 

Jehosaphat ...... 

19 

III. 

Curly Comb and Tommy 

33 

IV. 

Donald Goes to Tommy’s House 

45 

V. 

Susie and Curly Comb 

. . 55 

VI. 

A Temperance Lesson .... 

61 

VII. 

The Story of Plumy ... 

. . 69 

VIII. 

Curly Comb at the Lily Pond . . • 

83 


f 



List of Illustrations 


He sat down on the bank with Curly Comb (frontispiece) 

Donald 

Up the hill 

Down the hill 

One hen came running forward . . . . . 

Curly Comb . . . . ... 

Tommy looked on with big eyes 

Down flew Curly Comb into the midst of the trouble . 
k was Curly Comb ....... 

They saw Tommy run around the comer of the bam . 
Luther looked pretty sober ...... 

Curly Comb darted over the edge of the boat 



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V 



DONALD’S GOOD HEN 


I.— A LITTLE CITY BOY 

IT is believed by most people that hens do 
not know anything, and cannot be taught anything. 

As everybody is aware, sheep and horses and 
cats and dogs have been trained to do almost hu- 
man acts. Still, as I have just said, most people 
think that the poor hen is a hopeless dunce. 

Now the hen which belonged to little Donald 
Burden was not a genius. 

Yet you will see that she must have had some 
sense, or else she never could have done what she 
(9) 


10 


Donald’s Good Hen 



did do. Donald says if she only could have been 
trained when she was a little chicken, she might 
have known as much as “folb.” 
When you finish this story, you 
may think so too. 

Little Donald lived in a 
great city, but one summer he 
went with his mother and 
younger brother, Oscar, his baby 
sister, Jessie, and Dorcas, the 
nurse, to board in the 
country. 

They reached 
Mr. Corey’s farm 
toward the close of a 
warm July day. That 
night Donald had a great sleep, and he woke up 
feeling strong enough to do anything in the world ! 

Donald was six years old, but he was still 


A Litde City Boy 1 1 

wearing kilts and a ruffle collar. (The events in 
this story happened some years ago, and little boys 
did not put off kilts quite as early in life then as they 
do now.) As for looks, he was a short, rosy, 
black-haired little fellow, with a very determined 
chin. 

Dorcas dressed Donald very soon after six 
o’clock. He simply couldn’t sleep any longer, 
though little Oscar and Jessie were still dreaming 
in their beds. As soon as he was dressed, he 
Wcuited to put on his hat and go out-doors. So 
Dorcas looked out of the front window to see where 
it would be safe for him to play, and Donald looked 
out with her. 

Just under the window lay a large pretty yard, 
with flower-beds and a tiny fountain and a croquet 
ground in it. This yard was raised above the road 
beyond, and banked up by a stone wall. Across 
the road was a strip of rough grass dotted with 


12 


Donald’s Good Hen 

bushes. Beyond the strip ran a deep swift river. 
A railroad wound along the further shore of the 
river. Altogether, the scene made good Dorcas 
shudder. 

“You can play in the yard, but you mustn’t 
get down from the stone wall,” said Dorcas. 

Donald said the yard was not nice. (It really 
was too trim to play in.) 

“ Well, let’s see what there is on the other 
side of the house,” said Dorcas, cmd Donald went 
with her to the back window. 

There were some large bams, and some small 
sheds and out-houses straggling off toward a wide 
smooth meadow, which was bordered by a stone 
wall with some bars. Over the wall rose the 
ridgy sides of a pretty hill, with trees standing here 
and there, cuid at the top were beautiful deep woods. 

“ I wish I could go up on that hill,” said 
Donald. 


13 


A Little City Boy 

Dorcas saw several sheep feeding along the 
ridges. It looked very peaceful and safe up there. 
Just then Jessie began to stir and to cry a little. 

“ Well,” said Dorcas, “ you may go along the 
meadow and through those bars. Then you may 
go up the hill, as far as that big tree on that rock 
yonder — do you see it ? Put on your rubbers, for 
the grass is wet. When you get up to the tree, 
turn around and come right back.” 

By the time Donald was starting to cross the 
meadow, Dorcas had got the baby, and was hold- 
ing her up to the window. Donald took off his 
hat. He had picked up a stick as he passed the 
woodpile. He perched the hat on the stick, and 
shook it at the baby. The baby laughed, and 
waved her little arms in return. Then Donald put 
his hat on again, and marched gaily along toward 
the pasture-bars, and Dorcas went off to give little 
Jessie her bath. 




14 


Donald’s Good Hen 



(If Dorcas had stayed 
at the window, she might 
have seen what happened 
next.) 

Donald found the bars 
too close together to crawl 
between, so he climbed over 
the wall. Then he began to 
go up the slope. If the 
sheep had been cows he 
might have been afraid, but 
he did not feel afraid of sheep. 
He even hurried a little to get 
closer to the first sheep to 
see what it was like. Don- 
ald had never seen sheep 
much before. Sheep look 
very pretty and peaceful. 

This sheep edged away 


15 


A Little City Boy 


from him. So did the next, 
and the next. But the fourth 
sheep had its back to him, 
and was busy eating its grass 
breakfast, and Donald could 
almost touch it, when it 
lifted its head at last and saw 
him. This fourth sheep had 
been a pet when a lamb, and 
it did not move away. Don- 
ald smiled at it kindly, and 
was just putting out his hand 
to pat it, when a sudden 
noise, farther up the slope, 
made him look up. And 
there Donald saw a great 
sheep with horns, and this 
sheep was charging right 
down upon him ! 



DOWN THE HILL 


16 


Donald’s Good Hen 


Donald was no coward, and his first feeling 
was to stand his ground with his stick. But he 
looked at his stick, and then back again at the ram ; 
and the stick looked so little, and the ram looked 
so big, he thought he had better run. 

“ Dorcas ! Dorcas ! ” he cried, as loud as he 
could, and raced down the rough hillside. And 
almost at once a sharp stone in the path tumbled 
him over, and tore a hole in his stocking and 
scraped a patch of skin off his knee. . Yet there 
was the ram coming down right above him — 
Donald could see him as he scrambled to his feet 
and ran on, leaving his stick behind him. 

And now, just ahead, was the wall — oh, 
how could he ever get over it quickly enough ! If 
only Mr. Corey, or the hired man, would come to 
the door and see him ! or if Dorcas only would 
happen to come to hold the baby up to the window 
again ! 


17 


A Little City Boy 

But nobody heard or saw little Donald. No- 
body came out to drive back the dreadful old 
homed sheep. 



II.— JEHOSAPHAT 


DONALD’S breath was almost gone when 
he came bumping up, like a little flying scud, against 
the stone wall. Wildly he began to climb it, look- 
ing back all the time, as he scrambled up, at the big 
sheep with horns, less than a rod away. Oh, if 
only sheep couldn’t climb WcJls ! And perhaps 
they couldn’t ! 

But Donald didn’t stop to see. He just pitched 
himself, headlong, down from the wall. The next 

minute he plunged into a marshy hole, and sunk in, 
(J9) 


20 


Donald’s Good Hen 


almost up to his knees. But he pulled his little wet 
feet out and ran, ran like a little scared deer, giving 
a frightened yelp at each forward leap. 

Sheep may not be able to climb over stone 
walls, but they can jump over, as this one showed. 
He did it, though, only after he had tried several 
times, for he was a heavy old sheep. And after 
he got over he plunged into the same marshy hole 
which Donald had tumbled into and he fell dovm, 
too, in getting out. 

All this was in Donald’s favor, and the little 
fellow moved over the meadow as if he were on 
wings. 

The nearest of the farm buildings down on the 
meadow was the hen-house. It had a yard, with 
a fence of wire-netting. The door of the yard was 
open now, and the fowls were scattering out over 
the grass. Suddenly one group of them was roused 
from its bug hunt by a child in kilts who seemed to 


ONE HEN CAME RUNNING FORWARD 




Jehosaphat 23 

be coming straight down upon them. There rose 
a great cackling and fluttering and scattering, but 
still on came little Donald, with the old sheep 
jumping along just behind, his horns twisting about 
in a very ugly way ! And then happened one of 
the strangest things that ever was seen ! 

While the other hens were running and flying 
in various directions wildly, one hen — a large 
shining white one, with beautiful yellow eyes and 
legs and a curling bright-red comb — - came running 
forward, straight toward the ram, with her wings 
spread, exactly as though she were trying to head 
him off. 

In fact, this was what the shining white hen 
did accomplish. For she came on so steadily, and 
cackled so sharply and so fast, that she confused the 
ram and made him veer out of his course, and he 
was so very eingry about it that he stopped stock- 
still and shook his bad old head at her. 


24 


Donald’s Good Hen 

Little Donald saw the scene over his shoulder, 
but he didn’t stop running. Past the hen-house he 
fleeted, and then saw Levi, the hired man, carr3ang 
a pail of water into the bam. 

“ Le-e-vi ! Le-e-vi ! ” he screeched, with the 
Icist effort of his poor little breath, and pitched for- 
ward in sm exhausted little heap of tom kilts and 
bleeding knees and shaking little arms and legs, into 
the grass. 

Big strong Levi heard the miserable cry. 
The pail of water went rolling down into the barn- 
yard, and around the comer Levi came mshing. 
He saw what the matter was, and he took off his 
palm-leaf hat, and began to run toward the angry 
old sheep, shaking the hat, and throwing stones, so 
that he turned him back toward the pasture. But 
Jehosaphat — the ram’s name was Jehosaphat — 
could not jump the wall going this way, and Levi 
had to follow him and take him around by the bars. 


Jehosaphat 25 

By this time Levi’s shouts and the uproar of 
the hens had brought out good Mrs. Corey and 
Sally, the hired girl. They gave a great cry when 
they saw one of their little city boarders lying with 
his face down in the grass, and his clothes almost 
tom off him. But the next minute they discovered 
Levi driving old Jehosaphat, and they knew what 
had happened. 

“ There ! ” said Mrs. Corey. “ I told Mr. 
Corey we ought to sell that old fellow if we were 
going to have children come here ! I cal’c’lated on 
telling Mrs. Burden to not let ’em go up in the 
pasture ~~ but who’d expect a child to be out and 
up there the first morning before breakfast ! ” 

Mrs. Corey was carrying Donald into the 
house. He hadn’t fainted, but was moaning, and 
drawing long sighs, and seemed to quiver all over, 
jmd she left the breakfast to Sally and sat down 
with him, to rock him, and soothe him. 


26 


Donald’s Good Hen 


“You mustn’t cry, Donald,” she said to him, 
“ for it will frighten your mother. Besides it’s all 
over now, and we will sell that old Jehosaphat! 
He jumped the wall, and ran after me, once, Don- 
ald.” 

“ Oh, did he ? ” said Donald, sitting up, and 
appearing to feel encouraged. And soon he said 
he would go up stairs. 

(Mr. Corey put a poke on Jehosaphat that 
very day, so that he could no longer jump over 
walls ; and in about a week he was sold. All the 
family said, “Good Riddcince! ” when Jehosaphat 
went off.) 

Donald was able to come down to breakfast, 
and at table he told about his adventure. “ And, 
oh,” he said, “ you should have seen the hen that 
flew at the sheep ! I looked back and saw her go 
right at him ! ” 

“ It probably didn’t know what it was doing. 


Jehosaphat 11 

poor thing ! ” said Mrs. Corey. “ Hens will fly 
most any way when they are scared.” 

“I think it knew what it was doing,” said 
Donald. “ I think it meant to help me get away 
from the sheep.” 

When Mr. Corey heard how the white hen 
had dared to fly at the ram, he was much interested. 

“ She makes me think of a turkey I had once,” 
he said. “ I think the hen really did mean to hurt 
the ram, I think the hen understood that the ram 
should be stopped from chasing after that screaming, 
frightened little boy — though if I hadn’t happened 
to see this turkey that I speak of, I might not be so 
quick to believe that the hen was so clever. 

“ You see, I was going across my meadow one 
day, a few years ago, when I kept turkeys, and I 
heard a great commotion going on among a little 
flock of my turkeys out in the midst of the meadow 
there. The grass was quite high then, but I could 


28 


Donald’s Good Hen 


see that there were a good many turkey chicks out 
there, fluttering and racing about, as though they 
were scared. I decided that I would go near 
enough to see what was going on. 

“ Pretty soon, I saw that a hen-hawk was 
sailing around just overhead, and every few minutes 
she would dart down toward the turkeys. Then 
the little turkeys would screech and rush for the 
thick tufts of grass emd weeds, and there they would 
hide until the hawk was well up in the sky again. 

“ Even the large turkeys would run away —all 
except one particular one. She would fly up 
toward the hawk every time he swooped down and 
try to fight him — - squawking and pecking at him 
as if she hadn’t a mite of fear. I watched her for 
twenty minutes or more, and I never saw more 
pluck in my life. I believe, Donald, that turkey 
would have flown at the ram, too — but I never 
saw any other fowl so brave. Fowls are a timid lot.” 


Jehosaphat 29 

“ That white hen isn’t timid,” said Donald. 
“ She is the nicest hen I ever saw.” 

“ I guess I shall have to give you that hen,” 
Mr. Corey said. 

Donald’s tired little face beamed. “ Oh, I’d 
like that ! ” he said. 

“ All right,” said Mr Corey. “ You can have 
her. I give her to you now, right here. But you 
must feed her and look after her.” 

And Donald promised that he would. 

“ What will you call her, Donald ? ” asked 
Mrs. Burden. “ She must have a name.” 

Donald thought a moment. “ I will go out 
and look at her awhile, and see what name will fit 
to her, ” he said. 

After breakfast, Mrs. Corey mixed some 
chicken-feed, and went out to show Donald how 
to feed his hen. He found he could not feed her 
by herself, so he fed the whole flock. There were 


30 


Donald’s Good Hen 



about twenty-five hens and roosters, and about fifty 
chickens of all sizes. But nearly all were grey Ply- 
mouth Rocks, and 
he had no difficulty 
in picking out his 
shining white one. 

Donald d e - 
elded to call his hen 
“Curly Comb.” 
From that time on, 
he so petted her that 
she seemed to love 
him. She let him 
carry her about in 


his arms for hours 
at a time. She often stepped along behind him all 
over the yard and meadow, and she would come 
sometimes and sit down where he and Oscar were 
at play. 


Jehosaphat 3 1 

One day a farmer, named Mr. Thatcher, drove 
into the yard. His little boy. Tommy, was with 
him. As Mr. Thatcher had to stop awhile on busi- 
ness with Mr. Corey, Mrs. Corey told Tommy that 
he could go out in the front yard and play with 
Donald and Oscar. 

Often, afterwards, Donald wished that 
Tommy Thatcher had staid at home that day. And 
no doubt Tommy himself often wished so, too. 












III.— CURLY COMB AND TOMMY 


TOMMY THATCHER was not any older 
than Donald. But he was larger. His eyes and 
hair were hazel-brown, and he wore little trousers 
and a little roundabout. 

Donald asked him to play croquet, as they 
were in the front yard. But Tommy didn’t know 
how to play croquet. Donald did not, either, not 
truly, but he and little Oscar liked to drive the balls 
about with the mallets. 

The woodbine on the house was in blossom, 
( 33 ) 


34 


Donald’s Good Hen 

and the bees from a neighbor’s hives near by, were 
buzzing in the vines in swarms. Little Oscar 
didn’t like “ bumblef’yes, ” so Donald invited 
Tommy around to see the hens. 

Curly Comb was out by the hen-yard, alone, 
by herself. Donald put down his arm, and Curly 
Comb stepped up on it and sat down with a pretty 
little nestle of all her shining white feathers. Don- 
ald had trained her to that. He never now had to 
pick her up. 

Tommy looked on, with big eyes. “ Let me 
take her, ” he said, after Donald had walked about 
with her a minute or two, and after Oscar had 
smoothed her wings with his soft fat hand. 

Tommy came up, quick, to lift her up from 
Donald’s arm, but Curly Comb gave a great cackle, 
and flew up into the plum-tree that grew by the 
hen-yard. 

“ She don’t love anybody but Donny, ” cried 


TOMMY LOOKED ON WITH BIO EYES. 













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Curly Comb and Tommy 37 

Oscar. “ She loves me a little, on’y jus’ a little. 
You musn’t touch Curly.” 

But Tommy said he should climb up and get 
her, and he began to climb. 

With another cackle. Curly Comb flew down 
out of the tree, upon Donald’s head. She often 
settled down upon Donald’s head. Donald said it 
didn’t hurt him any. 

“ Well, ” said Tommy, “ I won’t touch her. 
Isn’t she fine? I wish I had her.” 

They went on, out by the little coops, where 
the hens lived that had broods of chickens. 
Tommy tried to take up some of the littlest, newest 
chickens and their mother did her best to get 
through between the slats of the coop and bite him. 
But she couldn’t and Tommy laughed at her, and 
said, “ Don’t you wish you could ? ” 

Then it was that Donald’s hen showed again 
that she was a hen that would not see anybody in 


38 Donald’s Good Hen 

trouble and fail to go to their rescue if she could. 

Tommy was down on the ground with the 
little chickens, and they were peeping in distress, 
for he had three of them in his hands, and Oscar 
was trying to get them from him to give back to the 
poor mother. Down flew Curly Comb into the 
midst of the trouble, right on Tommy, and began to 
nip his hands and his head with her bill. Sh 
nipped him just as fast as she could, her beautiful 
head with its great scarlet comb darting at him in a 
perfectly terrible manner. Donald was scared, and 
ran and took her, and Tommy got up crying. The 
backs of his hands were almost black and blue, for 
a hen bites hard. 

But Tommy wasn’t etngry at Curly Comb. 
He looked back at her as they came away. She 
was sitting on the ground by the coop, as if die 
meant to stay and guard the mother-hen inside. 

“ Isn’t she a smart hen ! ” he said. 


DOWN FLEW CURLY COMB INTO THE MIDST OF THE TROUBLE 



..V ■■■'■ 




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J3 



Curly Comb and Tommy 41 

Dorcas came out now to say to Donald and 
Oscar that a lady had come to call on their mother, 
and they were to go in the house to see her. 

When they came out again Tommy and his 
father had gone, and Oscar went back again into 
the house. He sat down to play with his blocks, 
and pretty soon he said to his mother, “The 
wooster combs his hair.” 

“ Does he ? Who told you so ? ” 

“ Tommy did. He said the wooster took off 
his comb ev’ry-day and combed his hcdr.” 

Mrs. Burden said that Tommy must be a 
funny little boy, and that he only meant to have a 
joke. 

Oscar shook his head. “ I fink, ” he said, 
“ the wooster does comb his hair. ” 

Donald had not gone in. He was up in the 
apple-tree, where he often climbed to sit, with a 
picture-book. 


42 


Donald’s Good Hen 

From his seat, he could see the hen-house, and 
many little knots of hens and chickens scratching 
around in the meadow. He looked about for 
Curly Comb, but could not see her. At last he 
climbed down and went in search of her. 

She was not in the hen-house, nor out in the 
meadow. You cem see a white hen anywhere, if 
she is anywhere ! 

Levi was unloading hay in the bam. Donald 
hurried in there, and demanded of Levi, “ Where 
is my Curly Comb ? ” 

“ I haven’t seen her, ” said Levi. 

“ She is lost ! ” declared Donald, beginning to 
ciy. 

“ Oh, she will turn up before long,” said Levi. 

Donald went out and began to hunt again. 
Suddenly a perfectly awful thought came into his 
mind. He remembered that Tommy Thatcher 
said he wished he had such a hen. Perhaps after 


Curly Comb and Tommy 43 

he and Oscar had gone into the house, Tommy had 
carried Curly Comb off. 

In a panic of distress Donald ran into the 
house to his mother. 



IV.~ DONALD GOES TO TOMMY’S 
HOUSE 


MRS. BURDEN did not think that Tommy 
Thatcher had carried Curly Comb away. 

Little Oscar, too, who was pla5dng with 
Jessie, on the floor, shook his head. “ Curly Comb 
would cackle,” he said. Then he made believe he 
was a hen, to amuse Jessie. Little Oscar had 
learned to cackle quite well, and to cluck and crow. 
Yes, it did seem as though Curly Comb would 

have cackled and struggled had anyone tried to 
( 45 ) 


46 Donald’s Good Hen 

carry her off. Tommy might have found a box to 
put her in, and might have hidden the box under 
the wagon-seat, but Curly Comb would have made 
such a noise that Tommy’s father would have heard 
her cind asked questions ! 

But where was Curly Comb ? Dorcas came 
out to help look for her, and so did Sally. And 
Levi left his work too, at times, emd looked for her. 
Mr. Corey had gone away on business, to return 
the next afternoon, but Mrs. Corey joined in the 
search. 

Donald sat up until after nine o’clnck. But 
there came no news of Curly Comb, and Dorcas 
heard him sobbing after he had gone to bed. 

Next morning Donald was up and dressed 
early. In the night it had come into his mind that 
Curly Comb might have strayed into the corn-house, 
or into the shed which Mr. Corey used for carpen- 
ter-work, euid have been locked in by mistake. 


Donald Goes to Tommy’s House 47 

But no ! Curly Comb was not in either place. 

It was a long hot day. About five o’clock, 
when Mr. Corey was expected to be on his way 
home, Donald was permitted to go to meet him. 
But by the time Mr. Corey appeared in the 
distance Donald had walked nearly two miles. 

“ What under the sun ! ” began good Mr. 
Corey, when he came up to the dusty little boy. 

“ Where’s my Curly Comb ? ” ctsked Donald, 
climbing into the wagon. 

“ Curly Comb ? Is she lost ? ” 

“ Yes, she is, and do you suppose Tommy 
Thatcher carried her off ? ” 

“ Tommy? Why, no. His father has plenty 
of hens.” 

“ Not like Curly Comb ! ” moaned Donald. 
” Tommy said he never saw a hen before that 
would cuddle down on a boy’s arm, and do the nice 
things Curly Comb can. I think he’s got her.” 


48 


Donald’s Good Hen 

Let me see,” said Mr. Corey, after a 
moment. “ Oh, I remember. I didn’t see Tommy 
when he went. His father said Tommy had 
walked on a piece.” 

” Yes,” cried Donald, “ and while none of us 
were out there he put Curly Comb under his jacket 
and went away ! ” 

Mr. Corey admitted that it was possible that 
Tommy had taken the hen. “ But don’t fret, 
Donald,” he added, “ I can get Curly Comb back, 
if he has. Mr. Thatcher will give me the hen. I 
will go up and see about it in a day or two.” 

“ In a day or two ! ” wailed Donald. “ Can’t 
you go to-night ? ” 

“ No, Donald. It’s six miles up to Mr. 
Thatcher’s. Just be patient. The hen is all safe.” 

But the very next morning Mr. Corey took 
time which he sorely needed for something else, cuid 
drove up to Mr. Thatcher’s with Donald. 


THEY SAW TOMMY RUN AROUND THE CORNER OF THE HOUSE 







Donald Goes to Tommy’s House 5 1 

Tommy ran and hid when he saw the wagon 
coming through the gate. Mr. Corey and Donald 
saw him run around the comer of the bam. 

Mr. Thatcher was standing in the bam, in the 
doorway. When he heard Mr. Corey’s errand he 
looked astonished. But he said Tommy did bring 
home a hen. “Tommy told me that the little 
fellow — the little fellow you’ve got with you 
here — had given it to him,’’ Mr. Thatcher said. 
“ I shall punish him for this — but that won’t bring 
back the hen.’’ 

Donald gave out an agonized little cry. 

“ Why haven’t you got her ? ’’ he shrieked. 

“ Well, no, little boy,” said Mr. Thatcher, “ I 
haven’t. The fact is, your hen disappeared that 
very night. We looked everywhere for her the 
next morning. We thought that maybe she had 
traveled back to your house — though I never heard 
of a hen smart enough to do anything like that. 


52 


Donald’s Good Hen 

But probably a fox, or owl, or something, was 
around and carried her off.” 

Donald could bear no more. He did not 
wish to cry before Mr. Thatcher and Mr. Corey, 
and he turned and walked back to the wagon, with 
the big tears running down his red cheeks, and 
climbed up to the seat. 

Mr.Corey came, too, after talking a little more 
with Mr. Thatcher. He told Donald that he wets 
afraid nobody would ever see poor Curly Comb 
again. 

For three or four days Donald was almost ill. 
He wandered around the farm, always searching, 
searching, up in the pasture, and in all the sheds 
and bams, and in every odd comer. 

After awhile he singled out one of the three 
or four whitest hens, and began to pet her. But 
she was not nearly so amiable and sweet as Curly 
Comb, nor so bright and intelligent. 



IT WAS CURLY COMB 



Donald Goes to Tommy’s House 53 

One Wednesday morning, just a week from 
the day when Curly Comb had disappeared, a very 
remarkable thing happened. 

Donald had come out after breakfast, as usual, 
to feed the hens, when a big snow-white one came 
running toward him from the meadow, far in front 
of all the others. As she came nearer the building, 
she flew up into the air, toward Donald, as if to 
alight on his shoulder. Donald dropped his pan in 
a perfect tremble of ecstasy. It was Curly Comb ! 
There was no doubt about it — safe and sound and 
prettier than ever. 

Oh, how Donald, emd all of them, wondered 
where she had been, and what she had been doing ! 
And, strange to say, they found out. You could 
never imagine what had been the adventures of 
this lovely hen. Even when they are related, 
you will scarcely believe them, though, as you will 
see, the account of them is strictly true. 



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V.—SUSIE AND CURLY COMB 

THE Thatchers were surprised when they 
heard that Curly Comb had come back. They 
really supposed that some wild emimal had devoured 
her. 

Even Tommy was glad that the smart little 
hen was alive and safe. 

And now everyone shall hear how it Wcis 
found out where Curly Comb had been. 

One day Mrs. Corey went to the village to 

visit her friend, Mrs. Shaw. Mrs. Shaw had just 
( 55 ) 


Donald’s Good Hen 


56 

come from a visit to a Mrs. Temple, whose daugh- 
ter Susie, only a little older than Donald, was 
getting well after a long illness. The Temples 
lived on the road which led around from the village 
to the farm of Mr. TTiatcher. 

“ I have the most extraordinary story to tell 
you,” said Mrs. Shaw to Mrs. Corey. “ You know 
the cackling of geese once saved Rome. Well, a 
hen has very nearly saved the life of little Susie 
Temple.” 

And then Mrs. Shaw went on to tell the story. 

“ You see, last week, when Susie began to get 
better she thought she could eat an egg. She did n’t 
want steak, she did n’t want chops. An egg was 
the only thing she could think of. There was n’t 
one in the house. They keep a few hens, but the 
hens have n’t been laying lately. 

“ The Temples went to their neighbors, but 
they had no eggs either. Not an egg was to be 


57 


Susie and Curly Comb 

found at either of the two stores ; they would have 
eggs on Saturday — not many, you know, are brought 
in at this season, except on Saturday. 

“ Susie is a sweet little thing, cuid she Scud it 
did n’t make any difference ; she could live on toast 
and tea until Saturday. Her mother knew she was 
very tired of toeist and tea, and she felt dreadfully. 
Yet they did n’t see how they possibly could get an 
egg for her that day — Thursday. 

“ Now, Mrs. Garey, this is what happened.” 

“Mrs. Temple was sitting by Susie’s bed, 
when suddenly there was a great ‘ cut-cut-ca-dah-cut ’ 
right in the next room— just as if a hen had laid an 
egg there. It was the back chamber, which opened 
right at the back stairs. Susie’s bed was against the 
door, so in order to get into the back chamber Mrs. 
Temple had to go around through some other rooms. 
By the time she had reached the chamber, there Wcis 
no hen to be seen — but right on the bare floor was 


58 Donald’s Good Hen 

an egg, newly laid ! A few minutes later that egg 
was nicely poached on a slice of toast, for Susie. 

“ Friday forenoon Mrs. Temple went around 
and hid herself in that back chamber, to see if any- 
thing more would happen. About ten o’clock a big 
beautiful white hen came pit-a-pat up the back steiirs, 
and into the back chamber. There she laid an egg 
again, on the bare floor. She made a great ‘ cut- 
cut-ca-dah-cut,’ as on the day before, and then went 
down the stairs, and out into the yard with the other 
hens. Mrs. Temple watched her. She was a 
strange hen which Mrs. Temple had noticed when 
she fed the flock that morning, wondering where 
she came from, 

“The next day Mrs. Temple bought eggs at 
the store, and the white hen did not go up into the 
chamber at all that day, and did not once go after- 
ward. She staid with the Temples several days. 

*The truth of this remarkable story is vouched for by the Rev. Addison 

Ballard, D. D., Professor of Moral Philosophy in New York University. 


Susie and Curly Comb 59 

Then she disappeared and they have not seen her 
since.” 

Mrs. Corey asked more about the hen, and 
from the description of her looks there was no doubt 
in her mind that this wonderful hen was none other 
than Curly Comb ! 

But how Curly Comb found her way from the 
Thatcher’s house to the Temples,’ and from 
there to her own home, we probably never shall 
learn. Very few hens have been known to travel 
around in such an intelligent manner ; but, as even 
the most doubtful must be convinced by this time, 
Curly Comb was no common hen. 



VI.~ A TEMPERANCE LESSON 


ONE morning the Burden family slept late, and 
it was consequently considerably after the usual time 
when Donald started out after breakfast to feed his 
hens. Then, with his big dish of “ chicken-feed” in 
his hands, he marched off as usual, down the path 
toward the bam and the meadow, calling out in 
his clear sweet voice, “ Biddy, biddy ” over and 
over as he went. 

Very few hens responded to his summons, and 
those walked strangely and limpingly as they 

m 


62 Donald’s Good Hen 

came. Donald’s eyes grew large and round, and he 
paused in his calling, as he neared the spot by the 
bam where he usually fed the hens. Only a half- 
dozen or so were there. He could see a group 
further on, so he proceeded toward them, followed 
by those which he had collected on the way. 

But what made them all walk so queerly? 
They even tumbled over now and then, and had 
great difficulty in picking themselves up again. As 
they walked, their feet would shoot up into the air, 
and they would tip from side to side exactly as if 
they were intoxicated. 

Donald knew that diseases sometimes attacked 
fowls, and killed whole flocks of them at a time, 
and dreadful fears began to fill his mind. Perhaps 
all the hens were going to die ! Oh, oh — he 
hoped that Curly Comb was not sick. 

But when Donald reached the spot where the 
hens were most numerous, he saw that they were all 


A Temperance Lesson 63 

acting just like those which were beside him. They 
seemed to be struggling to come toward him, but 
reeled and staggered, unable to walk in a straight 
line, and some of them fell over into the grass. 

Donald kept on calling, “ Biddy, biddy! ” in a 
frightened tremulous voice, all the while search- 
ing for his beloved Curly Comb. At last she came 
out from behind the carpenter shop — and she, too, 
was disabled like the rest. Her strong yellow feet 
would claw the air unsteadily — cmd then over she 
would go into the long grass ! 

Donald was by this time so alarmed that 
instead of scattering the chicken-pudding in small 
bits, as he had been taught to do, he scraped it out 
in great masses, as fast as he could, and then started 
back toward the house, weeping and shrieking as he 
ran. On the way, he saw two hens run against 
each other and then angrily try to peck each other ; 
but they could not “ see straight,” and their poor 


64 Donald’s Good Hen 

bills merely dug into the soft grass, far wide of the 
mark at which they aimed. 

This seemed so pitiful to the little boy that he 
actually howled, and by the time he reached the 
kitchen doorstep, he was in a panic of distress. 

“What is it! What is it!” called Mrs. 
Corey and Sally, who had come to the door in 
alarm. They did not know but old Jehosaphat 
had returned. 

“ They are all sick ! ” wailed Donald. “ My 
biddies are all sick ! My Curly Comb is dreadfully 
sick. She falls over ! She is going to die ! Oh, 
get some medicine — get some medicine quick, Mrs. 
Corey ! 0~o~0“h ! O-o-o-w ! ” And poor 

Donald cried harder than ever. 

“Sick?” repeated Mrs. Corey in bewilder- 
ment. “ How could they get sick ? Our hens 
have never been sick in the world. I’ll go right 
out and see to them. There, there, Donald ! Don’t 


A Temperance Lesson 65 

cry so. ril see to them. Curly Comb, too! 
Dear me I ” 

By this time, Mrs. Corey was nearly down to 
the place where the poor hens were trying to eat 
their breakfast. She clasped Donald’s hand in 
hers, and tried to soothe him as she walked. Sally 
came cmxiously along behind. 

When she saw the hens tumbling around and 
acting so queerly, Mrs. Corey was at first as much 
mystified as Donald had been. As for Sally, she 
broke into a loud laugh when she beheld the strange 
antics of the unfortunate hens. This made Donald 
angry. He could not see how anybody could pos- 
sibly laugh at those sick and unhappy hens. 

Suddenly a great light broke on Mrs. Corey. 

“ Sally I ” she exclaimed, “ What did you do 
with those brandy cherries ? ” 

“ There I sure enough I ” rejoined Sally, who 
understood everything in a minute. “ You told me 


66 


Donald’s Good Hen 

to throw them into the river — but I was walking 
along with Levi, talking — and then I thought it 
would do just as well to throw them into the deep 
grass behind the carpenter-shop — and so I did. 
I never thought of the hens getting at them.” 

“ Oh, Sally ! You ought to have thrown them 
out into the river. I always do. You see, Donald,” 
she explained, “ I make a few quarts of cherry 
brandy every summer for the neighbors and our- 
selves, for sickness. It is excellent medicine for 
some kinds of disorders. I soak the cherries in the 
brandy for a number of days, and then I strain the 
brandy off and throw away the cherries. The hens 
have eaten the cherries and have had too much of 
the brandy which was left in the cherries. But 
they will get right over it — just as drunken men get 
over their drunkenness. It is too bad — but it is n’t 
anything dangerous, Donald ! ” 

Sally refused to see the matter in anything 


67 


A Temperance Lesson 

except a humorous light, and she tried to make a 
joke about the fishes getting into trouble if the hens 
had n’t eaten the cherries, but neither Mrs. Corey 
nor Donald would laugh at it, and neither would 
Mrs. Burden, who insisted that there must be some- 
thing wrong about anybody who could smile at the 
spectacle of drunkenness in either man or beast. 

But as the news spread, many of the neighbors 
came to see the poor tipsy hens, and as everybody 
seemed to be immensely amused at them, perhaps 
Mrs. Burden’s condemnation was rather too sweep- 
ing. 

The hens did not recover themselves all day 
long. They even had trouble in getting on to their 
roosts at night. But the next morning, though they 
were rather wild-eyed, and not as lively as usual, 
they were practically well again. 

Poor little Donald did not smile once during 
that long day. When he heard the visitors saying 


68 


Donald’s Good Hen 


that it was “ the funniest thing they ever saw in their 
lives,” he felt sick at heart. It seemed to him veiy 
terrible. Mrs. Burden said she was reminded of 
the impressive story of Emerson’s little son, who 
whispered to his father at the circus, “ Papa, the 
funny man makes me want to go home ! ” 


VII.—THE STORY OF PLUMY. 

GOOD Mr. Corey was so sorry for Donald’s 
grief over his hens that as soon as he could finish his 
work that evening, he took the little boy in his arms 
and sat with him out in the cool, vine-covered porch, 
telling him stories to divert and comfort him, while 
all the others sat by and listened. 

“ When my son John, who is now a merchant 
in the county town, was about your age, Donald,” 
Mr. Corey began, “ he liked hens as much as you 

do, though he never thought of taming one and pet- 
( 69 ) 


70 


Donald’s Good Hen 


ting her, as you pet Curly Comb. Very likely we 
did n’t have any such clever hen then as Curly 
Comb is. But he made a good deal of money out of 
the hens, off and on. John always had a turn for 
business. John has made a success in his work — 
and you will think that he was pretty shrewd even 
as a little boy from this story which 1 am going to 
tell you. 

“You see Donald, the Sunday school wanted 
to raise some money. So each child in it was given 
five cents, to make what he could out of it. John 
took his five cents and bought a paper of tomato 
seeds. He planted them in a big box and he raised 
three dozen nice little tomato plants. Along in the 
spring, he sold the plants for fifteen cents a dozen. 
So he had forty-five cents. 

“With this forty-five cents John bought a ‘set- 
ting’ of eggs. There were eighteen eggs, and I lent 
him a hen to sit on them. That was all the help 


The Story of Plumy 7 1 

he had about it — and I considered that the forty- 
five cents paid me amply for that and the eggs, too. 
He raised sixteen chicks from those eighteen eggs, 
and he tended them as carefully as I could myself. 
He sold them for fifty cents apiece — and so he 
made eight dollars out of his five cents. I believe it 
was the most that anybody made. 

“I’d like to raise hens,” said Donald very 
much interested. “ I think I could take good care 
of the chicks, too — don’t you believe I could ?” 

“ Certainly you could,” said Mr. Corey kindly. 
“ But one has to be out on a farm all the year 
round in order to keep hens. Maybe you could do 
something quite as profitable in the city in some 
other line. We must try and think what a boy 
could do in the city in order to make eight dollars 
out of five cents, inside of nine months.” 

“ Have you told Donald about the dove down 
at the mill ? ” inquired Mrs. Corey. 


72 


Donald’s Good Hen 

“ No, I have n’t,” said Mr. Corey, “ but I will 
tell him now — for it is a remarkable tale. It is a 
perfectly true tale, too — for I saw some of the 
things with my own eyes, when I happened to be 
up at the mill one day with com to be ground. 

“You see, Donald, our miller, Mr. Forbes, is 
a pretty nice kind sort of a man, and he has a little 
boy named Luther, who helps around the mill. 
Luther is along about eight or nine I should say — 
and there is n’t a better boy in town than Luther 
Forbes, I think. 

“ One day Luther noticed a dove flying around 
in the horse-shed at the mill and he took a notion 
to feed her and keep her for a pet. It was n’t a 
white dove nor a fancy-colored dove with a ruff 
around her neck, like some of them — she was just 
a plain, common, dove-colored dove. You would 
have thought she was like any other dove — but she 
Wcisn’t. 


The Story of Plumy. 73 

“ Luther calls her ‘ Plumy ’ — because he says 
she doesn’t drop down hard and quick, as most birds 
do when you feed them. She floats down sort o’ 
softly and gently, like a plume of feathers — as of 
course, she really is, when you come right down to 
it, and so he thinks Plumy is a good name for her. 
Mr. Forbes told Luther that he had a dove once 
that he called Pete. But Luther said he thought 
Pete was a better name for a bull-dog them for a 
pretty little dove, so he would n’t call her Pete. 

“ When the weather began to grow cold last 
winter, Luther worried about his dove for fear she 
would freeze. Mr. Forbes had just built a new 
hen-house, and it occurred to Luther that Plumy 
might as well be out in the warm new hen-house as 
in the cold shed. So he took her up to the hen- 
house. 

“Luther never thought that the hens would 
object to his pretty little pet — but they did. They 


74 Donald’s Good Hen 

pecked at her, and cackled and made all sorts of 
ugly noises. But Plumy did not seem to mind all 
this persecution. When they attacked her, she would 
just fly out of the way until everything quieted down, 
and then she would come around again softly and 
pleasantly, and snuggle right down against the very 
crossest hens there were ; and by the time she had 
been there a fortnight, the hens began to seem down- 
right fond of her, and Luther would find her snug* 
gled up against sometimes one and sometimes another, 
seeming to love them all alike. 

“ Another thing, Donald. Plumy not only dis- 
liked to have them fight her, but she did not like 
fights among the hens themselves. Luther and Mr. 
Forbes agree that the little dove is n’t afraid to go 
right in between the very biggest hens there are when 
they are fighting. And she flutters and moans and 
carries on so that she stops fight after fight. Mr. 
Forbes said once that he had heard a good many 


75 


The Story of Plumy 

times of the ‘ dove of peace ’ and all that, and he 
supposed that it was just a sort of poetical fable. But 
he says that this dove is certainly that sort'— and if 
we should study others as closely, we might find that 
all doves are more or less so. 

“Last spring the flock of hens had become 
pretty well thinned out, for the Forbes sell a good 
many hens — so they bought some new ones ; and at 
first there was trouble among them too about the 
dove. But she soon won them all over by her gen- 
tleness— just as she had the others. Mr. Forbes 
says there never was a Quaker who was more for 
peace than this little dovexolored dove. You see, 
she is dressed like a Quaker, too. 

“ One morning, along in early June, one of the 
neighbors said to Mr. Forbes, ‘ There is some sort 
of a creature around killing the hens. Next door, 
they have lost seven good hens, and two of mine are 
missing today. There are bloody feathers all around 


76 Donald’s Good Hen 

my yard this morning, and finally I found the bodies 
of those two hens lying out in the grass. This 
creature just sucks the blood of the poor hens emd 
then leaves. It is a weasel, probably. You want 
to look after your hens pretty carefully.’ 

“ Mr. Forbes thanked him and meant to follow 
his neighbor’s advice. But that night bloody 
feathers were scattered all around his yard, too, and 
two of his best hens were missing. I might as well 
tell you right here, Donald, that two or three days 
after this somebody shot a long slim weasel, and 
there was no more trouble about the hens. 

“ But that day after the hens were killed, poor 
Luther sat around looking pretty sober. The bodies 
of the hens were not lying out on the grass, but the 
family were pretty sure from the feathers that the 
hens had been killed just as the neighbors’ had been. 
They all thought a good deal of their hens, cind they 
felt pretty soriy. 









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79 


The Story of Plumy 

“ Sometime during the forenoon, Luther hap- 
pened to look out of the window, and he noticed 
Plumy down in the grass, biting away at it until she 
had filled her bill entirely full. Then she flew off 
toward the hen-house. 

“ Presently Mr. Forbes came around to the 
window and said, ‘ Luther, have you noticed your 
dove? I have looked out of the window a dozen 
times — and every time I have looked she has been 
out in the grass there, nipping it off, and when she 
gets her bill full she flies away with it and leaves it 
somewhere. What do you suppose she is doing ? ’ 

‘“I saw her too,’ Luther said, ‘ and perhaps 
she ’s going to build a nest. I guess I ’ll go out to the 
hen-house and see what she is doing.’ 

“ Pretty soon he came running back and said, 
‘ Father, you must come and see what my dove is 
doing. Mother, you must come. Father, have the 
men out at the mill stop a minute. Everybody 


80 Donald’s Good Hen 

must just come and see what my dove is doing ! * i 

“ Luther was so much excited that they all I 
really did leave the house and the mill to go and see : 
— and what do you think they saw when they ’ 
reached the hen-house? You could never guess. i 
There was a row of box-nests all along the sides, ■ 
and you could look right down into the nests - — and j 
there were the bodies of the two dead hens ! They 
had evidently had just strength enough left after they 
had been attacked to crawl back into their nests. 
But hardly enough of them was visible to show that 
they were hens — for they were almost completely 
hidden under a coverlet of pretty little bits of grass. 

“ While all those people were standing there 
looking into the nest boxes, that little dove, without 
a sign of fear, flew right down among them with a 
bill full of bits of grass, and dropped them on the 
hens, and then flew off again for more. Mr. Forbes 
said it was the most touching sight he ever saw in 


The Story of Plumy. 8 1 

his life — and it really made his eyes wet to tell me 
of it. As for Luther, he blubbered right out. 

“ Luther said he never had believed before that 
the robins did cover the ‘ Babes in the Wood ’ with 
leaves — but he believes it now.” 

“ Is the dove up at Mr. Forbes’s now ? ” asked 
Donald, who had forgotten by this time all of the 
depressing things which had happened to his hens. 

“ She is,” said Mr. Corey. ” You Ccin see 
her emy time you go to the mill.” 

” Mama, let ’s go up and see that dove tomor- 
row,” said Donald. 

Mrs. Burden and Donald and Oscar really did 
go up the next day to see the dove, and Donald 
liked her so much that he wanted to buy her. But 
Luther Forbes said there was n’t money enough on 
earth to buy Plumy away from him. 



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VIII.— CURLY COMB AT THE LILY 
POND. 

NOW Donald was not a perfect little boy, 
though so kind and good. For one thing, he had a 
tendency to wander off and be gone so long that 
Dorcas cuid his mother would grow anxious. 

One day this “tendency” got Donald into 
trouble ; and had it not been for the interference of 
Curly Comb nobody knows what would have hap- 
pened. 

Long after water-lilies were gone everywhere 

( 83 ) 


84 


Donald’s Good Hen 


else, there were some on a little black pond on the 
top of the pasture hill above the meadow, by tlie 
woods. The water was almost icy cold, as the sun 
was shut off by the trees in the afternoon. The 
pond was about as long as a common city block, and 
about as wide as a common city street. It was not 
very deep, and the bottom was covered with a mass 
of lily stems and water weeds. 

A small boat was kept on this pond. It would 
not hold more than two persons. Several times 
Mr. Corey, or Levi, or Dorcas, had taken Donald 
out in it, to pick lilies. But Donald had been told 
he must never get into it when alone. 

One warm August afternoon, Jessie, Oscar and 
Mrs. Burden were all asleep, and Dorcas and Sally 
had gone up the river for a bath. Mrs. Corey was 
away, and so were Mr. Corey and Levi. Donald 
had been marching around near the house with 
Curly Comb closely clasped in his arms, and at last 


Curly Comb at the Lily Pond 85 

he wandered off across the meadow, and finally 
climbed the wall, and went up the slope. 

Pretty soon he was sitting among the bushes 
on the bank of the pond. He thought he would 
count the lilies which were open. That morning 
he and Dorcas had counted forty-seven. There 
would n’t be so many now, as the sun had gone. 

He counted ten, and by travelling around the 
pond a little way he counted ten more. There was 
one spot into which he could not see, because of 
bushes which grew out in the water. 

“ If I should push out in the boat a little way,” 
thought Donald, ” I could see into that place.” 

He sat down on the bank, and put his chin 
down into Curly Comb’s feathers. 

(What he ought to have done, was to turn and 
run down the hill as fast as he could.) 

“ It was four weeks ago,” thought Donald, 
“ when they said I must not go out in the boat alone. 


86 


Donald’s Good Hen 

Then I did not know how to row, or an)^hing — 
but now, Dorcas and all the rest have taught me. 
The pond is not deep. I might as well go out 
where I can count all the lilies. Besides, I can pick 
those which are open to cany to the house.” 

Donald arose and went to the boat. He 
worked at it with his one free hand, and pushed it 
partly into the water. 

After about half of the boat was well into the 
water, Donald laid Curly Comb under the little seat, 
and told her to sit still there. Then he took up the 
dainty painted oars and gave the boat a push, 2is 
Dorcas always did 

But now hear what Curly Comb did. Instead 
of sitting still as Donald had told her to do, as soon 
as she felt the boat move she flapped out from under 
the seat, with a great cackling and screeching, emd 
hopped on shore. 

“ Naughty hen ” shouted Donald- “ When I 


CURLY COMB DARTED OVER THE EDGE OF THE BOAT 





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Curly Comb at the Lily Pond 89 

tell you to sit still, why don’t you mind me ! ” 

He gave the boat a hard push back to the land. 
It slid up far enough for him to get out and catch the 
hen, though she ran from him a little distance. Then 
he climbed into the boat as before, and put Curly 
Comb in the same place and bade her not dare to 
jump out again. 

The hen fluttered and seemed about to disobey 
him. But Donald put his foot up against her. She 
was not able to struggle past until after he had got a 
boat’s length of water between him and the shore. 
But then the excited hen could not be kept any longer. 
With a screech, she darted up over the edge of the 
boat, and half flew, half swam, to the land. 

Donald was angry. At first he thought he 
would go back and get her and make her mind. But 
he found managing the boat harder work than he 
had expected, and decided to let Curly Comb go, 
and row right out to count the lilies. 


90 


Donald’s Good Hen 

As he turned, he gave an awkward push, so 
that his hand slipped and let one of the oars fall into 
the water. He could have caught it, if he had tried 
at once. But Curly Comb was cackling and behav- 
ing just as she had in the boat, and he stopped to 
look at her. 

Instead of stalking peacefully along the shore, as 
she usually did. Curly Comb did not keep still a single 
second. She cackled and screeched emd fluttered. 
She flew up to the top of the bushes, cuid then flew 
down again. In fact she made such a hubbub that 
Dorcas, who was now home again emd looking out 
of the upper back window, more than a quarter of 
a mile away, saw her, and was at once alarmed. 

(Only the very tops of the bushes could be seen 
from this window, and this was the only window in 
the house whence they were visible.) 

“ That looks like Donald’s hen — that white 
thing up there,” said Dorcas to herself. “ If she is 


Curly Comb at the Lily Pond 91 

up at the pond, he must be. He must have gone off 
by himself while Sally and I were up the river.” 

Any one can imagine what good Dorcas did 

then. 

Donald watched Curly Comb only for a mo- 
ment. Then he stretched out his hand and picked 
the lilies which were within reach. After that, he 
turned around to take the oar from the water and 
move on. By this time the oar had drifted several 
feet away. 

He struggled to bring the little boat nearer to 
the oar, and after puffing and getting very red could 
almost reach it He stretched far over, but the oar 
floated just beyond. He looked down into the water. 
It did not seem deep. He thought to himself, “ I 
don’t mind a little thing like wetting my shoes emd 
stockings. I’ll step out and just get my oar.” 

So foolish little Donald put one leg on the edge 
of the boat and was just going to step down, when 


92 Donald’s Good Hen 

the boat, as most boats would, promptly tipped square 
over, and he was dumped into the pond, wheezing 
and gcisping and screaming, cind trying hurriedly to 
get his footing. 

Donald’s conduct now seemed to make poor 
Curly Comb more excited than ever. She dashed 
crazily back and forth and up and down. But such 
movements would have excited any hen. He no 
sooner got his feet planted in the soft mud, than 
he would become tangled in the lily pads and the 
weeds, and down he would go. Besides he was 
growing chilled in the cold water, and thought he 
was going to be drowned, and he screamed and 
cried in the most dismal way. 

And what he was afraid of might have hap- 
pened except that Dorcas just then came rushing up 
the hill. She must have come all the distance from 
the house in about five minutes. 

fDorcas did not get over that run for a week.) 


Curly Comb at the Lily Pond 93 

Ah, you should have seen Curly Comb then ! 
As Dorcas flung off her shoes and stockings and 
pinned up her gown, Curly Comb sailed all around 
her, flying up in the air, running away and then 
running back again, all the time uttering the most 
singular noises. 

Dorcas waded into the pond, and seized dear 
little Donald, just as all the color was going from 
his face, and all the courage from his poor little 
heart. 

That night, Dorcas could not say too much in 
praise of Curly Comb’s conduct. She believed, 
and so did Donald, that Curly Comb would not go 
into the boat because she knew Donald was doing 
wrong ; also, that her screechings and flappings after 
she hopped out were a protest against his sta)ang 
in the boat. 

Mr. and Mrs. Corey and Mrs. Burden smiled. 
Mr. Corey said, “ Hens always act queer if you 


94 Donald’s Good Hen 

put ’em on water. If they hatch clucks and see ’em 
going into a pond they behave just about as Curly 
Comb did up there ! ” 

A few days after this, Mrs. Temple, Susie’s 
mother, called to inquire after the health of Curly 
Comb, and of course she heard the story of Donald’s 
adventure on the pond. 

Mrs. Temple saw Mr. and Mrs. Corey and 
Mrs. Burden smile when Donald said solemnly that 
Curly Comb had “ saved his life,” and she resolved 
to comfort the little boy, who also had seen the 
smile. 

She said that she could believe any good 
thing of a hen that had attacked a ram in full 
career, and that had saved another hen’s chickens, 
and that had travelled home by herself, after being 
stolen, many miles over a strange road, stopping on 
her way to lay eggs for a little sick girl. 

Mr. Corey said it had “ just happened so,” 


Curly Comb at the Lily Pond 95 

but Mrs. Temple and Donald shook their heads. 

When Donald went to bed that night, he put 
his arm around his mother’s neck, and said, “ Please, 
mama, I am sure that Curly Comb knows much 
more them you and Mr. Corey think. And anyway, 
whether it was ‘ just happen ’ or not, she has been 
good to me, hasn’t she ? ” 

“ Yes, Donald,” his mother said, “ she has.” 
“Then, mama,” pleaded Donald, “please, 
please, don’t ever downpraise hens any more! 
’Specially, don’t ever downpraise Curly Comb! 
You won’t will you ?” 

And Mrs. Burden promised. 




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